08 October 2016

Poem-A-Day #222 : Eleanor Thinks About Her Companions

Eleanor Thinks About Her Companions

The room is warm is red with it
and she is thinking darkly that these people
hate her secretly find her silly

And she imagines them dead or worse

Imagines the sound of herself
as the sound of cheese being grated

That ones voice is the sound of bravado
it is the brag in the lung as it pushes oxygen
into the blood stream - without me etc. etc.

The father one is a bearded sink
a point of darkness where the knowledge dies
he is a buttonhole smoking a pipe

The psychic lesbian is a trope
that has never caught on but here she is
sitting on the carpet admiring her red toes

Eleanor wants them to go away
wants the silence that a mother's death promised her
she wants to disintegrate into the woodwork

Imagine them being eaten by the fireplace
her warmth guaranteed until the bones ran out